


Not Normal

by Phoenix1966



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, Implied Top!Dean, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Manip, Pre-Slash, Stalking, Stanford Era, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Unrequited Love, Wincest - Freeform, implied bottom!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix1966/pseuds/Phoenix1966
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to check up on Sam at Stanford and finally sees his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small drabble I wrote after making the manip included below.
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies that this is all for fun and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> I do not give permission for anyone to repost my works anywhere. If this continues, I will delete all my work and no longer post.

 

It had been a year.

A year since Dad told him that if he left, he shouldn’t come back. And Sammy had done just that. And he tried to see it Dad’s way. Dean had really tried. After all, Sammy had abandoned him, too, not just their father. But, after a few months, Dean started to wonder. He wondered if it really was so important that Sammy stayed, why didn’t Dad try harder to make him see that? Why was Dad’s default always ordering instead of reasoning with his youngest? And why had it come down to one or the other with Dad? Why was Sammy denied his family just because he wanted to grow, to learn, to be one of the people they protected instead of one of the protectors? Why was "normal" a dirty word if it was about them? Why wasn’t Sammy allowed a choice? Dean wanted Sammy to choose them…to choose him, of course, but he wanted him to choose freely and not in anger or fear.  
  
Now, a year down the road, Dean finally gave in to the itch that had been gnawing at him under his skin since Sammy had walked out that door. Dad had sent him on a salt and burn in Oregon and Dean decided to take the “scenic route” back to Bobby’s, where he was supposed to eventually meet up with Dad. And, funny enough, the scenic route had taken him straight to Palo Alto. And Sammy. He was just going to check on the kid and then book it out of town, just satisfy the worry (craving) nestled in his bones. Make sure baby brother was staying safe.  
  
So he found himself parked not too far from the beach and waited patiently for the object of his attention to show up. And he wasn’t disappointed. Long, lean legs came into view as his brother jogged around the corner. Dean could admit Sammy looked good. Maybe even a little taller than when he had left, but otherwise still the same. And he was keeping himself in shape, which was good. Meant he hadn’t let his guard down entirely, even if he didn’t realize he was being watched right now. Or maybe he had gotten used to being watched, Dean thought suddenly, as he saw his baby brother pull off his t-shirt and toss it to the ground when he came to a stop on the sand.  
  
_Damn. Where had that six-pack come from?_

And before Dean could begin to imagine the answer, Sammy toed off his sneakers with practiced ease and shrugged out of his baggy shorts. Dean suddenly couldn’t swallow. There was his baby brother, his long and lean body ( _tan, don’t forget tan,_ his mind offered uselessly) covered by only the smallest of black briefs. Because Dean didn’t know what else to call them. That sure as hell wasn’t a pair of swim trunks, not by a long shot.  
  
Unaware, or uncaring of the looks he was garnering, Sammy moved over to a set of orange bars - some elaborate type of jungle gym was all that Dean could guess - and hopped up. He hooked his legs under the far one, crossed his arms over his chest and slowly began to lower himself until his torso was just past parallel with the ground. He held the position for several moments and then slowly rose, only to repeat the motion over and over again.

Dean was breathless. Mystery solved on those abs ( _and that ass_ , his mind added, _don’t forget that ass_ ). Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched Sammy’s body work up a sweat, bending and twisting under the California sun. And unexpectedly he found himself wondering if Sammy had any tan lines at all, judging by what he couldn't spot as the tiny briefs hitched up a bit, realizing just how much he wanted to know that answer.  
  
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckle bones so prominent, it was surprising they hadn’t burst through the skin on Dean’s hands. Hands that wanted to know the body in front of him; hands that ached to feel every part of the man his brother was becoming. Like a lightning bolt, realization smacked Dean in the head. He wanted to feel his baby brother’s body moving under his own, taste that sweat drop by drop, map every square inch with his tongue before he finally sank into it. He wanted that more than anything.  
  
And he straight away remembered the night before Sammy left, how his little brother had looked at him. There was something broken in those hazel eyes as he told Dean he had to go before something happened that shouldn’t, something that would change them forever, something that would make Dean hate him. Dean hadn’t understood, had told Sammy that nothing could change them, there was no need to leave, that he would give him anything he asked for. And Sammy had laughed (or sobbed, Dean couldn’t recall exactly) and said that’s exactly why he had to leave. He knew with absolute certainty that Sammy had wanted him that night and had chosen to run in order to save Dean. And now Dean was drowning in that same want.  
  
“Sonofabitch,” Dean hissed and pulled away fast, trying to outrun a very different kind of demon he was never going to shake.

Ever.

And he wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

Dean slapped a Zepplin tape in and hoped the familiar notes would drown out the haunted sounds he was making as Baby ferried him down US 101. The Winchester family credo - saving people, hunting things, the family business. He was laughing. He might have been crying.

There was no saving him.

 


End file.
